


Passing Thoughts

by ExcavatingLizard



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Jim is a Little Shit, M/M, Oblivious Jim, PTSD, Pen Pals, Pike's not really in this. Just kind of mentioned, Post-it Notes, Tarsus IV references, as always., kind of not really, writing letters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExcavatingLizard/pseuds/ExcavatingLizard
Summary: I would ask you to refrain from writing directly on the surface of the desk. I believe that a PADD should be adequate for your needs.Jim grinned down at the small note attached to the desk. Who even used paper anymore?
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 15
Kudos: 100





	1. Ballpoint pens, Passive Aggressive Letters and Advanced Mathematics.

**Author's Note:**

> What??? This isn't a oneshot?
> 
> I started this based on a [prompt](https://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator), but then I got three thousand words in and realized I wasn't quite done. 
> 
> The first chapter, since I initially wrote it as a oneshot, is slightly different to the rest of the story. Later chapters are more serious, but I tried to keep humorous elements throughout.

_I would ask you to refrain from writing directly on the surface of the desk. I believe that a PADD should be adequate for your needs._

Jim grinned down at the small note attached to the desk as he slipped into his seat. Who even used paper anymore? Well, Jim couldn't say anything about it. He was, after all, the one who had been scribbling formulas on the desk in ballpoint pen in the first place. Detaching the note and tucking it in his pocket, Jim pulled out his pen and wrote where it had been:

**There’s just something about writing physically. I notice my notes aren’t still here; It can’t be that big a deal if it’s so easy to get rid of them.**

He knew he was being bratty, but he didn’t need to get lectured by someone who wouldn’t even complain to his face. All the same, Jim did in fact pull out his PADD and only wrote a few _teensy_ equations on the desk. Jim had to admit that he was intrigued. It was pretty rare for someone to actually use paper, much less waste some for a note.

Wondering about the mysterious letter writer—they hadn’t even supplied a name—was definitely more interesting than his class. Someone was snoring behind him, and Jim could hardly blame them. 'Advanced Mathematics' wasn’t exactly a thrilling course. Especially when you could do most of the work in your head.

Not that Jim could. Nope, totally normal brain, thank you very much.

The only person who actually seemed to enjoy the class was the Russian boy who always sat in the front row. He answered the teacher's questions while the rest of the class took great pleasure in slumping down in their chairs and avoiding eye contact. The lecturer would always look around the room and sigh dramatically before gesturing for the kid to go on. It didn’t seem to discourage him from frantically waving his hand above his head like a pre-schooler.

Jim had taken to leaving small offerings of food on the kid's desk. You know, just to thank him for sparing Jim from having to _actually_ interact with their ancient professor. Sure, Jim could have answered them himself, but he had a reputation to maintain! Just because he actually worked hard in class didn’t mean anyone else had to know that. Maybe if the class was being taught by some hot young Orion…

Too bad everyone who taught at the Academy was either a dinosaur or a captain, and therefore ‘completely off-limits, Jim’.

For once, Jim didn’t feel like arguing with Pike.

His Advanced Math class was in one of the older, lesser-used classrooms. The seats hadn't been padded in years, and even an hour made his ass hurt like a bitch. (Bones insisted it was good for his posture or whatever. Jim was unconvinced.) No one wanted to get assigned to the old building, and even the teachers avoided it like the plague. They preferring to hold their classes in the new block, so the not-quite-decrepit classrooms and lecture halls stood empty most of the time.

All this meant that Jim didn’t get a chance to check for a new note until the next week. To his delight (really, Jim? Getting excited over notes from someone complaining about your writing habits?) there, on the desk in what he _swore_ was the exact same spot, was a piece of cream paper.

Jim unfolded it as he slipped into his seat and pulled out his PADD. The neat handwriting from the week before greeted him:

_I can see your attachment to ‘writing physically’ as you put it. However, it is, in fact, quite a nuisance to clean ink from the desks. If you still find your PADD insufficient, perhaps you would consider using paper as I have been doing._

Jim tried unsuccessfully to cover his snort of amusement with a cough. One of his classmates cast a scathing look in his direction, but the professor ignored them both. Jim did his best to look like he was paying attention as he scribbled his response.

**Not all of us stashes of paper lying around. Like you said: most people find their PADDs to be ‘adequate for their needs'. Also: isn’t that kind of the cleaning staff’s job?**

Jim added a couple of lackluster notes for effect, but his heart wasn’t really in it.

The class passed in its usual blur of monotone voices and scratching styluses. Jim was a bit surprised when the rest of the week followed the same pattern. When he tried to remember anything outside of class material, he came up blank. Jim might have expected that back in Iowa, but his courses at the academy were genuinely engaging. For the most part, at least. Starfleet was the first place that Jim was _actually_ challenged in his classes. He hated to admit it, but Pike had been right when he pulled Jim out of that bar in Iowa.

The newest note was waiting for him as he entered the lecture hall, and Jim had never run to his seat faster in his life. The guy (Mitchell?) a few rows ahead looked at him incredulously, but Jim just shrugged. Wasn't his fault his little pen pal had Jim wrapped around their finger.

_There is a stationary store on campus, and it is my belief that you should be able to purchase paper there. I must admit to experiencing some surprise at your recollection of the contents of my previous message._

Of course, Jim knew about the stationery store. He definitely hadn’t gone looking for paper as soon as he had read the last note. No, he had needed it for… a group project. That sounded believable, right?

**What can I say? I’m studious.**

_I find myself unconvinced, especially considering that you seem able to take time out of your class to write these messages. I suppose I must thank you for refraining from writing on the desk this time._

**I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you. Don’t you worry that someone else may take one of my notes before you get the joy of receiving it?**

_It would not be a particular loss._

Jim stared incredulously at the paper. They had been talking for _weeks_ and his pen pal didn’t seem to be quite as enamored with their correspondence as he was. Jim had even found himself looking forwards to his Advanced Math classes, much to his chagrin. He didn’t even mind the chairs. _Hell, I’m even starting to think like them. What is the world coming to?_

He shook his head and settled down to write his reply, but as he did so he caught sight of something on the back of the note.

“That sneaky bastard,” Jim muttered as he flipped over the paper to see what had been written on the back.

The handwriting was messier, rushed, but still neater than Jim’s and unmistakably from the same source.

_However, I have realized that I do not wish for our correspondence to be lost. I took the liberty of examining the timetable for this room. There do not appear to be any other classes aside from the one that I must assume you attend. I anticipate that this will decrease the likelihood of someone else intercepting these letters._

Ok, so maybe he wasn’t the only one invested in whatever they had going on.

**How do you know I’m not just some rando who wandered in off the street?**

_Most ‘randos’, as you put it, would not be capable of the mathematical prowess I have observed from your notes. You appear to have quite the analytical mind, although I find your methods of reaching solutions most illogical. I believe it would be best if you apply the focus I have witnessed to your classes._

**Touché. And… thanks? I think? Was that a compliment? I'm going to take it as a compliment. I'd better put that on my resume. ‘Illogical methods of reaching solutions’.**

Jim thought for a moment, then turned over the scrap of paper he had been writing on. It was cheap compared to the notes he got, but nice paper wasn’t exactly in his student budget.

**Here’s my comm number, by the way. As much as I enjoy our little weekly messages, I'm a bit worried about wasting paper. Only if you want, of course. I’m not going to force you to comm me.**

He hadn’t actually expected to be taken up on his offer, so he wasn’t too disappointed when he saw the next note.

_I am not sure that would be entirely appropriate._

The rest of the semester passed that way, with Jim and his mysterious confidant exchanging notes back and forth. Their simple banter had quickly devolved into longer messages and miniature debates. Jim wasn’t shirking his actual work, of course. If anything, his pen pal had made him even more studious. It wasn’t _his_ fault that he finished all the assignments way before the end of class.

As the end of term neared, Jim had gotten used to the anticipation he felt as his Advanced Math class approached. He still had to admit that it was a bit of a weird feeling, being excited for what was 'the most boring class in Starfleet history’ according to Bones. Well, according to everyone, actually.

Bones didn’t get a vote though; he was the one who got all excited about labeling different muscle groups, after all.

Of course, in the end, it was Bones who had to point out the obvious. Well, what probably should have been obvious to Jim the first time he ran to class so quickly he face-planted on the stairs of the old building. He'd shown up to class with a bleeding nose and a shit-eating grin, only just managing to swipe his note before the lecturer kicked him out.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had a bit of a crush on your mystery writer.”

Jim stared at him dumbly, trying not to dribble beer down his chin.

They had been drinking in Bones’ room because Jim’s roommate was an _asshole_ who didn't know a thing about personal space. He couldn't even be bothered to respect the simple rules Jim had laid out. Really, how hard could it be?

Jim had taken to sleeping on Bones’ couch on the weekends whenever he wasn’t, _ahem,_ otherwise occupied. Bones would grumble when he saw Jim on his doorstep, but would eventually cave under Jim’s winning smile. The booze he always brought probably helped too, but Jim didn’t need to admit that.

“What are you talking about,” he finally managed, taking another swig out of his bottle, “I don’t _do_ ‘crushes’. Besides, I don’t even know them. They could be, like, two hundred years old for all I know. Even I wouldn't go that far, Bonesy”

Bones frowned and shook his own bottle in derision.

“Sure thing kid, you just keep telling yourself that. But this is all going to fall down around your ears sooner or later.” He gave Jim an appraising glance. “Knowing you, I’d say sooner.”

Jim laughed and smacked his friend’s knee, but he couldn’t help feeling that Bones might have been right. Jim had a knack for landing himself in trouble, and Bones knew it. Pike might have been the one to bring Jim to the academy, but Bones was the one keeping Jim from ending up dead in a ditch.

Jim tipped his bottle back and pushed the thought from his mind.

\--

Jim stared in shock down at the paper in his hand. It was the last day of the semester, and Jim had been dreading the end of classes. Like, actual pit-in-stomach dreading. He hated to admit it, but maybe Bones had a point. Jim couldn't stop a smile cracking across his face as he re-read the note he held, and he could _just_ imagine Bone's face if he had been there.

_I will be in the recreation hall at 2000 hours on the final day of term. If you are amenable to the suggestion, I would be pleased if you joined me for a game of chess._

Jim nearly floated through his remaining lectures. He would finally get to meet his mystery correspondent. _In-person_. They hadn’t even been willing to exchange PADD numbers, but they were totally going to meet up. And play chess.

If that didn’t fit perfectly with what he knew from their letters to one another, Jim didn’t know what did.

It was only when he was standing in his dorm room in his boxers that Jim began to panic. He was starting to wonder if meeting this mystery person was even a good idea. Should he even worry about clothes? Well, he obviously had to wear something, but it wasn’t like this was a date. They were just going to sit in the rec hall and play chess. Yeah. Not a date.

“Jimmy’s got a date?” his roommate sniggered from where he sat on the opposite bed, "Who is it this time? That Orion chick?"

Jim flipped him off as he pulled on a pair of jeans and the least wrinkled t-shirt he could find. When was the last time he hung anything up in his closet?

“Her name’s Gaila which you damn well know. Also, no. Besides: not a date,” he grumbled as he fixed his hair and pulled on his boots.

“Sure looks like it!”

“Not. A. date!” Jim shouted over his shoulder as he left the room, silently cursing whatever gods hated him.

Jim tried (and failed) not to pick at his hangnails as he made his way across campus to the warmly lit rec hall. The sun had set winter-early and a stiff chill lingered in the air, his breath puffing around him in clouds that dissipated as soon as they appeared. He wrapped his jacket tighter around his shoulders, cursing himself for being the kind of attractive bastard who sacrificed functionality for aesthetics.

 _Definitely rubbing off on me,_ he thought with a chuckle, pausing as he reached the door that opened into the rec hall. It wasn’t too late to just, turn around. Better yet, he could go around to the other side of the building and work off his anxious energy in the gym. Hell, he hadn’t been this nervous since stepping off the shuttle from Iowa.

 _Not a date,_ he reminded himself, _nothing to be worried about. Chess. You can play chess. So what if you haven’t played since Sam left? What’s that thing people say? ‘you never really forget’? Or is that riding a bike…_

Jim took a deep breath and winced against the blast of hot air that escaped as he opened the door. There were only a handful of people in the rec hall. Usually, the hall was packed, but it was the last day of term and most people had left on the first shuttle after class. The cadets and staff sitting around tables piled with cards or old console games would likely be staying for the holiday like Jim.

There was only one person sitting alone, a chessboard set up at the table. He was staring at the PADD in his lap, and Jim felt the trepidation deepen in his stomach because _damn he was really hot._

And also Vulcan. And Terrifying.

He checked the time. 2003. About as on time as Jim Kirk ever got.

Jim threw on his classic heartbreaker smile and made his way to the table. “Hey. You’re professor Spock, aren’t you?”

Spock looked up and met Jim’s eyes, and he could’ve sworn that he saw a flicker of irritation flash behind them. _Weird. Aren’t Vulcans all about that ‘no emotion’ thing?_

“Was there something that you needed, cadet?”

“Oh, um,” Jim fumbled, smile slipping, unsure how to respond. This was not exactly how he had imagined their meeting, but he could roll with it. Chill. It was going to be great. Yep. Totally great.

He scrambled at his jacket pocket and pulled out the most recent letter that he’d stashed there, just in case. He was careful not to brush against Spock’s fingers as he passed it to the professor.

Spock raised an eyebrow, unfolding the paper and letting out a short breath when he saw the contents. “Ah,” he said, and Jim felt some of the tension leave his body, “I believe I invited you to play chess with me.”

He paused and looked Jim up and down with what Jim assumed was distaste. Jim shifted uncomfortably and laughed, “Sorry, bet you weren’t expecting me. Were you hoping for Chekov maybe? Oh, James Kirk, by the way. Or Jim.”

Spock dipped his head and gestured towards the opposite chair, which Jim pulled out from its position under the table and slid into. “I was not ‘hoping’ for any person in particular. You were the one with whom I was conversing, as such you are the one I was expecting,” he paused for a moment, “Jim. You have first move.”

Jim was amazed by how easy talking to Spock was after the first moments of awkwardness. Well, maybe it wasn’t that surprising, since they had known each other for almost three months already. Admittedly only through letters on a desk once a week, but still. It counted.

Spock was an excellent chess player, and Jim had to give his whole attention just to keep up with the conversation. He was so engrossed in the game that he almost didn’t notice when the announcement came over the PA system that the rec hall was closing. He looked incredulously at the time to see that they had been playing for nearly an hour. He’d barely been aware of time passing.

What was even more surprising was the fact that he and Spock seemed to be evenly matched. When he pointed it out with a laugh as he got up to clear away the board, Spock simply spread his hands. “You are a most formidable opponent. Would you be willing to accompany me for a rematch at a later date? Perhaps we could schedule to ensure that we have enough time to actually complete our game.”

Jim started up from where he was leaning over the board to replace the pieces, “Yes! I mean, that sounds like a great idea. I would enjoy that”

Spock stood and dipped his head. “I will be teaching a few courses over the break, but I do not expect to be particularly busy.”

“Same here. About the busy thing that is, not the teaching of course. Still a couple years until Pike can rope me into that. Oh!” Jim paused as a thought struck him, “Could I get your comm number? I know that you said it was ‘inappropriate’ before, but if we plan to meet up...”

Spock simply raised an eyebrow and nodded before typing his number into the PADD Jim held out for him. They exited the building together, and the cold night air hit Jim in the face like a fist. It must have been even worse for the Vulcan, but Spock showed no signs of discomfort.

“I had a really great time. I hope we can play again sometime soon. Thanks again.”

“I agree.” There was the faintest hint of green across the Vulcan’s cheeks, and Jim wondered if he really was colder than he let on. “Have a good evening, cadet.”

“Jim.” he corrected, “You too.” Then turned and left before he felt any more awkward. Not like it got more awkward than standing outside the rec hall making small talk with the only hot professor in Starfleet.

His roommate was already lying in bed watching a holo when Jim got back, flinging his jacket onto his nightstand and kicking off his boots.

“How was your date?” he asked, and Jim threw one of his socks at the offending smirk.

“Not a date.”


	2. Lab Work and Missed Coffee Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I perhaps miscalculated how invested I would get in this. Oh well, what's done is done, I didn't want this chapter to be disproportionately long.
> 
> This is chapter two. I have a plan laid out for the rest now.

Jim looked down at the schedule on his PADD and groaned. His Advanced Math class had been replaced, along with a handful of other courses. His accelerated track meant that quite a few classes that should have taken a full year were condensed into single semesters. There were days when Jim found himself completely buried under extra coursework, inbox overflowing with assignments and messages from teachers. Those were usually the days he could be found at his desk in the middle of the night growling Pike’s name.

When Jim was in a funk, even his roommate knew to stay out of his way.

Jim glanced at his updated schedule again before chucking the PADD into his satchel. Something labeled 'lab work' had taken the place of Advanced Math. The room number directed him to the science block; not exactly surprising considering, you know, _lab work_. Jim didn’t have much of a reference for what his new class would entail. Bones, already having his medical license, didn’t need as much credit as Jim did. All his free hours were spent working shifts in the hospital anyway. Uhura was in the linguistics track and Jim was pretty sure she didn’t have to log lab hours.

Sometimes he wished he wasn’t in command track. Or that, you know, he hadn’t let his ego run wild when he claimed that he’d graduate in three years.

Spock would know, but Jim wasn’t about to text him just to ask after his mysterious new class. Just because they’d met up every day of winter break to play chess didn’t mean Jim was totally comfortable texting the Vulcan. Not that he didn’t enjoy talking to Spock of course. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and Jim had even started to recognize the expressions he tried to keep hidden. Spock was still a professor though, and Jim would admit that he could be intimidating as hell. Besides, they hadn’t seen each other at all since class had started. The last day of break had been buzzing as cadets arrived back from their holidays and Jim had holed himself up in the dorm, trying to avoid interacting with anyone.

Jim yawned and checked the weather, and saw that the temperature had dropped again overnight. He’d barely slept the night before, and Jim knew he’d have trouble focusing unless he got his caffein hit, and soon. Unfortunately, it was still ridiculously early—his roommate was nothing more than a pile of blankets on the opposite bed—so the campus coffee store wasn’t open. At least the chill would help to wake him up.

He pulled on his jacket and slung his bag over his shoulder as he headed out into the cold morning air. He breathed in deeply as he exited the dorm, smiling as the sun hit his face. Jim usually didn’t miss Iowa, but the one thing he did miss was the weather. San Francisco rarely got below zero, but it had gotten close during the break. Jim had always liked winter as a kid. Spending time sledding with Sam. Snow days off school when he wasn't expected to do anything.

It was nice, and Jim almost found himself feeling homesick. Almost. Not quite.

The walk from the dorms to the science block wasn’t long, but Jim took his time. He didn’t need to be at the lab for almost half an hour, so he let himself wander the paths of the academy. He threaded his way between the grassy knolls, reveling in the cold quiet of the morning. It was way too early for most people to be awake, so Jim had the paths to himself.

Never let it be said that Jim Kirk wasn’t a morning person. Even if he complained about his (lack of) sleep schedule, he loved the quiet before the bustle of the day got going. It reminded him a little of standing alone in fields of grain, letting the wind ripple around him. Of staring past the golden sea of waving grasses, the sky so high and open above him that it felt like you could _see_ the horizon curving away. Sometimes, when he was alone, Jim would close his eyes and just let the memories wash over him.

Jim’s feet did eventually carry him over to the science block, and he pulled out his PADD to hold against the scanner on the door. When he heard the lock click open, Jim pushed his way through the glass door and into the building. The air inside was hardly warmer than it had been outside, and Jim wondered how Spock survived. He knew the Vulcan disliked the winter temperatures; he’d admitted as much to Jim one evening as they played chess.

When Spock had explained some of the differences between human and Vulcan physiology, Jim had realized how little he knew about other federation members. He’d immediately signed up for a xenoanthropology class, which _somehow_ wasn't already required. (It had taken the place of his Warp Engineering Mechanics class, and Jim had never been so happy to cross a course off his list. Even Advanced Math couldn’t hold a candle to the shit show that was Warp Mechanics. Bones had laughed at Jim every time he showed up at the doctor’s door, muttering about nacelles and dilithium. Jim couldn’t even blame him.)

Jim was incredulous at how few allowances were made for the non-human members of the academy. He was also embarrassed that he hadn’t even noticed before he’d started spending time with Spock.

Jim made his way through the block, checking his schedule again to make sure he knew where he was going. If there was one thing that could be said about ‘fleet academy, it was that they had the only logical room system Jim had ever seen. Once you knew how it worked, it was almost impossible to get lost on campus.

This meant that Jim soon found himself standing outside an austere white door on the top floor. The sun was still low, and the row of skylights above his head cast shafts of light against the wall. The dust motes floating in the air were the only thing countering the sterile feel of the hallway. Everything was… _painfully_ clean. Even the linoleum floor tiles were free of scuff marks, which was a serious achievement considering how many people were at the academy. Maybe the science block had a special cleaning service?

_Guess it would make sense,_ he mused, _they’ve got all sorts of weird shit in here._

He glanced at his schedule one last time, took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer next to the door. The channel clicked open, and he licked his lips before saying: “Hi, I’m supposed to be here for some lab work? James Kirk, by the way.”

There was silence on the other end of the connection, and Jim felt his nerves flare.

_Come on Jim. You’re the best cadet at this academy, and you’re getting nervous about some lab work?_

_Shut up,_ he told himself as the lock disengaged and the door swished open.

He blinked as light streamed from the lab, lighting up the hallway around him. The entire east wall was glass. Jim knew it was east from the fact that the sun was shining _directly_ through the windows, blinding him. Jim squinted and shaded his eyes, trying to see the rest of the room.

“Computer, dim windows,” a familiar voice said, and Jim found that he was able to see again as the windows darkened to block some of the light. It was still bright, but at least it didn't hurt to open his eyes anymore.

“Sp- I mean, Professor Spock?”

Spock looked up from where he was hunched over, fiddling with some apparatus Jim didn’t recognize. The entire lab was filled with machines, and the rows of benches were covered with samples and chemicals. It looked a little like a mad scientist’s lab from a 20th-century sci-fi movie, if it had all the latest Starfleet technology. Jim tried to bite back the smile that threatened to overtake his face.

“Cadet. I hadn’t realized that you would be assigned here when I requested a lab assistant.”

Jim chuckled. “Neither did I. My schedule didn’t have your name or anything, just the room number,” he paused, “is it a problem? Me being here, that is. I can request to be switched if it bothers you.”

“Of course not. This is in fact most favorable for me, as opposed to being assigned a cadet whose abilities I was not sure of.” He inclined his head, and Jim slung his bag onto a nearby bench and wandered over to where Spock sat.

“Professor!” he gasped, crossing his arms as he leaned against Spock’s bench, “Are you, no, it couldn’t be." He grinned, "Are you _shy?_ ”

Spock looked up at him and pursed his lips, before turning back to the thing that might have been a microscope. Jim might have known his way around a terminal—hell, even a warp engine—but the delicate instruments Spock was fiddling with were outside his area of expertise. “I apologize for the windows. Vulcans are not troubled by direct light as a human might be.”

Jim logged that away with the rest of his ‘Vulcan facts’, right next to ‘don’t lie but can _totally_ just avoid your questions’. His list was getting long enough that Jim had started wondering if he should write it down.

“Let me guess. Desert sun?”

Spock seemed pleased, which surprised Jim. Getting any reactions out of Spock always felt like an achievement.

“Yes,” he stood up and gestured towards a nearby terminal, “I have loaded a set of data as well as instructions. You should not find them difficult to follow, but I am here if you have any questions. I believe that we have an hour?” Spock paused as Jim yawned again, his brow furrowing slightly, “Is something wrong, cadet?”

Jim belatedly tried to cover his mouth with his hand, “No, sorry, it’s not you. I didn’t get my coffee yet today. I’ll pick some up after this, then I’ll be fine again.” He grinned apologetically and sat down at the terminal, opening the files Spock had sent over and beginning to sort through the data.

Spock cast him one last look before turning back to his own work, and an easy silence fell between them.

The lab was warm; Spock must have raised the temperature to make himself more comfortable. It was nice, and Jim didn’t mind, but he kept finding his eyes drifting shut. He'd shake himself out of his stupor, glancing around hoping that Spock hadn’t noticed. The Vulcan always seemed absorbed in whatever he was working on, but Jim couldn't be sure. He tried to suppress the unease he felt, focusing instead on his calculations.

Jim made a vow to himself that he would buy a coffee maker for the dorm. Just because he wanted to stay awake didn’t mean that he had to drink what the synthesizers spat out. It never tasted quite right, no matter what his roommate might say. At least Bones agreed with him. Jim would often crash in Bones’ room just to get to eat his friend’s cooking. Bones, ever the epitome of southern manners, would faithfully feed him. Jim had started spending even more time in Bones’ room in the hope that he’d get to have the doctor’s peach cobbler again. Jim would live on Bones’ peach cobbler if he could; he wasn't even allergic to it for once.

Shaking his head, Jim went back to sorting through the data, trying to keep himself awake while numbers swirled at the edge of his vision.

\--

The first thought that Jim had as he prised his cheek away from the top of the bench was that he was going to have a mark all day.

The second, as he blinked his eyes open blearily was that _fuck he had fallen asleep in Professor Spock’s lab._

The third was that the tint had been removed from the window, but the sun was higher and it didn’t hurt Jim’s eyes to look around the lab. It was empty, Spock’s bench neatly organized and every surface clean. Maybe Spock was the one in charge of the hallway outside, too.

Jim sat up in a panic, a blanket falling from his shoulders as he looked around desperately. His eyes caught on a flash of white that had fluttered to the floor next to the blanket. As he picked it up, Jim laughed to realize that Spock had written him a note, the handwriting almost as familiar as his own when he carefully unfolded it.

It was longer than most of the ones they had sent during the previous semester, and Jim wanted to tuck it away and keep it safe.

_Jim,_

_You told me that you simply required a caffeinated drink, however, I noticed that you do not seem so well-rested as you have in the past. I completed my work for the morning, but do not trouble yourself over falling asleep. It seemed that it would do you some good. I have a lecture which I must attend, but as you were not waking up, I took the liberty of sending a message to your next teacher stating that you were unwell._

_Spock._

Jim didn’t bother hiding the blush across his cheeks as he smiled down at the letter. It wasn’t like Spock was actually there to see it, so it was fine, right? No one would care if Jim missed one of his classes, but it was almost sweet that Spock had thought ahead for him. Even if it was a bit weird. Having someone other than Bones pay attention to him was an unfamiliar feeling.

_You are not crushing on the Vulcan,_ he chastised himself, but Jim couldn’t deny the little spark of warmth that had rooted itself in his chest.

“Shit,” Jim swore as he looked down and saw the time projected on the terminal. He’d already missed one class, and even if that wasn’t a big deal Jim really didn’t want to have to beg notes from Uhura. Chekov (Jim had finally learned his name, and he was glad he didn’t have to think of him as just ‘that Russian kid’ anymore) he could deal with, but Uhura would lord it over him. She was insufferable and Jim definitely wanted her on his ship.

Jim swung his uniform jacket and satchel over one shoulder before sprinting out of the science block. He had wanted to write a note back to Spock to thank him, but he’d have to make do with sending a comm message. It was too bad really, he was already missing their weekly notes. At least he’d get to see Spock in the lab, and the Vulcan hadn’t said anything about stopping their chess matches.

Jim smiled to himself as he jogged across campus, and if anyone saw his expression, they didn’t say anything.

\--

Jim’s professor was droning away when his PADD beeped quietly from where it sat on the desk. He glanced at the message that had popped up.

_I assume that you have made it to your next class._

**Yeah, sorry again for falling asleep on you like that.**

_You fell asleep on the desk. I already told you not to trouble yourself. It was no bother to me._

**Hah. Still. I’ll get the last of those calculations in for you after class.**

_That would be agreeable._

**This is kind of funny, writing messages during class. Almost nostalgic, you know?**

_I stand by my earlier assertion that you should be focusing on your classes, rather than on your conversations with me._

**But… you’re still talking to me?**

_I do not have a class this period and no other prior obligations._

When Jim didn't reply:

_I also find myself slightly concerned for your wellbeing. While I am aware that my lab hours are considered early by many humans, your fatigue seems to imply a lack of sleep on your part. Are you attaining a satisfactory amount of sleep?_

Jim bristled.

**I’m fine.**

_Is something troubling you?_

**Thanks, but I don't see how that's your concern, professor.**

_It is my concern if it affects your performance. You are acting most illogically._

**I already have Bones looking out for me. I don’t need another babysitter. Now, like you said, I have a class to focus on.**

Jim shut down the messaging system and tried to focus on the lecturer. The letter was one thing, but Spock didn’t get to lecture him on his sleep schedule. Hell, Jim didn’t even take his classes, and as long as he didn’t fall asleep in the lab again it shouldn’t be a problem.

“I’m definitely getting that coffee maker,” he muttered, jabbing the screen of the PADD with his stylus.

“You talking to yourself again, Kirk?” Uhura leaned forward to whisper.

Jim didn’t bother to turn around, just flapped a hand at her lazily. “Who wouldn’t want to talk to me? I’m a great conversationalist.”

Uhura snorted, “Yeah, not convincing anyone with those big words.”

Jim shook his head. “See? Even you find talking to me irresistible. It’s such a curse, being this gifted. Hey!” Uhura had cuffed him on the side of the head, and Jim rubbed it irritably, “You are so _mean_ Uhura.”

“Shut up Kirk,” she muttered, but her smile was audible as she leaned back, making her chair creak behind him.

Jim felt his nerves flare up and he glanced around, but no one seemed bothered by their conversation. He breathed a sigh of relief; he really didn’t need to make enemies with anyone in his classes. He couldn’t afford to miss any content, and Jim didn’t have enough friends to ask for notes when he missed. Despite what most people might have said, Jim didn’t purposely skip classes. Catching up was a serious hassle with his already full workload. Besides: Jim had made a bet with Pike and he wasn’t about to lose it.

Jim still wasn’t looking forward to having to copy Chekov’s notes for his missed class.

He wouldn’t have had to catch up if Spock had just woken him up, but Jim knew it wasn’t the Vulcan’s fault. Besides, he really did feel better for his nap. Dozing in the warmth of the lab had been the best he’d slept in nearly a week, which was kind of depressing when he thought about it. Maybe Spock had a point about his sleeping habits, not that it was Jim’s fault he couldn’t sleep. He’d get through it, just like he always did.

Even so, the couple hours hadn’t made a dent on his exhaustion, and Jim once again found his mind drifting.

He was pulled out of his stupor by Uhura poking him in the back. “Do you want to go get a coffee after this? You look like shit, even from here.”

Jim ignored the insult. It was true and he knew it. “I will literally kiss you if you take me for coffee.” He turned to smile faintly at her.

Uhura groaned, “Please, don’t. I don’t even want to know where your mouth has been. You’re still paying, by the way.”

Jim glanced at his PADD. Three unopened messages blinked back at him, but he swiped them away. He could worry about that when his brain was actually working again.


	3. Parties and Late Night Parks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I HaVe A pLAn laID oUt FoR tHE reSt nOw'  
> No I don't. I need to stop cursing myself.
> 
> Warnings(?): Alcohol consumption, Tarsus iv reference.

“Kids these days have too damn much energy,” Bones muttered into his glass, barely audible over the buzzing of the crowded bar.

Jim laughed and elbowed him, “Oh come on Bones, you’re just getting old.”

“Don’t come to me tomorrow complaining about your hangover.”

Jim ignored the doctor giving him the evil eye in favor of turning to Uhura who was leaning against the bar nearby. In fact, most of their class was gathered around, laughing and drinking. A handful of tables had been pushed to the sides of the room, the empty space filled with little gaggles of cadets. Even Pike had made an appearance, sitting at the edge with a tumbler of whiskey and a satisfied grin.

“Uhura, back me up here.”

Uhura snorted, “Leonard, you’re drinking even more than the rest of us.”

Bones looked up, offended. “I can’t believe you’re agreeing with the brat, Nyota.”

“It’s a party!” Jim spread his arms, “We’re here to have a good time! Not sit at the bar pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Bones grumbled, “and you were the one who dragged me here in the first place. I could be back at the dorm, sleeping.”

Jim raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Uhura as if to say _can you believe this guy?_

“Old man,” Jim laughed and Bones grunted.

“You can keep saying that all you want. ‘Least I made it to thirty. You,” he gestured at Jim with his empty glass, “I’m betting on twenty-five.”

Jim laid a hand over his heart in mock offense. “You have so little faith in me!”

“I’ve seen your medical records," Bones reminded him, and Jim grinned.

Uhura had been silent for a while, and when Jim glanced over at her she was staring at something over his shoulder. He followed her gaze and saw a familiar figure standing stiffly in the entrance to the bar.

Jim felt a smile stretch across his face, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide it. “Spock!” he called, standing and waving to get the Vulcan’s attention, “Over here!”

Spock caught sight of Jim flanked by Uhura and Bones at the bar and began making his way gingerly through the crowd. His instructor’s black stood out against the t-shirts and mini-skirts of the cadets around him. The crowd parted easily but Spock still kept his hands tight behind his back. Jim was staring and he knew it, but really, how could he _not?_

Uhura, in turn, was watching him, incredulous. “You know each other?”

“Yeah,” Jim shrugged, looping his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans, “we’ve been playing chess together, and I got assigned to be his lab assistant.” He grinned sheepishly, “I haven’t seen him since I fell asleep in the lab the other day.”

Uhura looked aghast, Bones choked on his drink and glared up at Jim, who tried to act innocent. “You’re telling me that you were pen pals with the _Vulcan_?”

“Yeah, he has a great sense of humor." Jim winked, "Now, be nice.”

Bones shook his head as Spock reached the bar where the three of them were clustered together.

“Cadet Uhura,” he inclined his head and Uhura smiled, “Jim.”

Bones coughed again and Jim patted him on the back. “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming tonight. Didn’t think this,” he gestured at the people around them, “was really your thing.”

“Captain Pike suggested I attend. He claimed that I should attempt to ‘loosen up a bit’."

Jim laughed, “Yeah, that sounds like Pike. Always sticking his nose into other people’s business.”

Spock raised an eyebrow in what Jim recognized as amusement. “That seems a rather apt description.”

“You really shouldn’t let him push you around so much.”

“You are equally guilty of letting captain Pike ‘push you around’ to my knowledge.”

Jim chuckled and shrugged, leaning back against the bar, “I can’t argue with that.”

“Professor, since you’re here, I was wondering if you could help me with some of my pronunciation...” Uhura had managed to sidle up behind Spock, arms crossed as she cast a _look_ in Jim's direction.

Spock turned to Uhura and they began discussing vowel lengths and other things Jim had no chance of understanding. He mourned the loss of Spock's attention.

 _What are you, a teenage girl?_ He stood awkwardly for a couple seconds before he shook himself and decided to leave them to it.

Jim wandered around the open floor, weaving between groups and stopping to chat whenever someone called out to him. He'd join them for a little while before excusing himself again. The conversations felt stilted, but Jim wasn't sure if it was him, or if that was just what you got at 'fleet academy. Putting most of the smartest people on earth together in one place had a way of killing the mood.

A couple people had started dancing and someone else had turned up the music. Gaila, Uhura’s roommate, tried to convince him to join her, but Jim just laughed and shook his head. He hadn’t drunk quite enough to embarrass himself in front of his entire class, not to mention Pike.

Not that he hadn’t done so before, but still.

He made his way off the floor and over to one of the walls, leaning against it to survey the room. He saw that Uhura had taken Gaila up on her offer instead as more and more cadets chose to abandon their drinks in favor of joining the growing crowd. Jim wasn’t sure when Uhura had stopped talking with Spock, but the Vulcan wasn’t by the bar. Bones had swiveled his seat so that he could watch the other cadets. His face had softened from its usual scowl and Jim made a mental note to poke him about it later.

Jim caught sight of Spock sitting by himself in a corner, holding a mostly empty cup of _something_. The low light caught on his hair, and Jim could see a faint green flush creeping across Spock’s cheeks. He looked as elegant as ever and totally out of place. Also about as uncomfortable as Jim had ever seen him.

Jim skirted around the perimeter of what had become the dance floor and sat in the chair next to Spock with a huff. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

Spock looked at Jim, and Jim felt his breath catch in his throat as their eyes met. The moment passed as quickly as it came, with Spock staring back out at the mass of cadets. “I must admit that I do not find such large social gatherings particularly enjoyable.”

Jim snorted, “Tell me about it. Don’t get me wrong, bars? Great. Bars filled with people you have to look in the eye the next day? Not so much.”

“An interesting-” Spock cut himself off with a wince and Jim spun to him in alarm.

“Spock? Are you alright?” There was tension visible in the set of Spock’s shoulders and at the corner of his mouth, “Do you want me to get you some water? Or something?”

“No, I am alright.” Spock settled his hands in his lap and sat up a little straighter. The change in posture did nothing to ease Jim’s worry.

“What happened?” A wince from the Vulcan was like a full-body flinch from a human. Jim had to forcibly stop himself from reaching out, pushing his hand against his thigh to still it.

“I am merely finding my mental shields slightly over-burdened at present. It is nothing to be concerned about.”

A thought occurred to Jim. “Is that why you never attend parties? I mean, you didn’t even go to the federation day thing they hosted at the academy. I guess I always assumed it was just the whole unsociable Vulcan thing.” Jim paused, “Wow, that really came out wrong. Sorry.”

“It is alright.” Spock said, and there was a trace of humor in his voice, “I will not deny that that is certainly an element. Usually, I do not find it to be an issue, as I am used to spending time around humans. However, having a large number of people in such close quarters is not particularly pleasant." He paused for a heartbeat, as if considering his words. "I find it interesting that you noticed my absence, especially given your claimed dislike of such events.”

Jim laughed and stood up, brushing himself off as he did so. “Since neither of us actually want to be here, what do you say we make our exit?”

Spock raised an eyebrow but stood as well, following Jim around the perimeter of the room to the exit. Jim caught sight of Pike giving him a thumbs-up from across the dance floor and felt himself blush. He shook his head and tried to ignore the captain’s smirk as he led the way out into the night.

Some of the tension instantly left Spock and he seemed almost relaxed as they walked down the streets side-by-side. Well, about as relaxed as his eternally stiff posture would allow. Every now and again a car would whir past or a pedestrian would cross their path, but the city was quiet. Not early-morning quiet, but the kind of quiet that’s interspersed with drunk laughter and barking dogs. Friday night in San Francisco and Jim was babysitting a professor. Kind of depressing if you thought about it.

He realized that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“There’s a park I remember nearby. The view’s nice and there shouldn’t be anyone there, if you want to go sit for a while. Or I can leave, or we can just go back to campus, but…” He trailed off and shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. Which was ridiculous.

Spock paused, footsteps stilling as he thought for a moment. “That would be… agreeable. I would like that, Jim.”

Jim grinned. “Great. If I’m right, it shouldn’t be too far now, hope you don’t mind a little walk though.”

They turned down another street and began to head away from where the bay glittered between buildings. Soon they were standing at the top of the concrete stairs that led into the small park. “Hope you didn’t have too much to drink,” Jim joked, starting down the stops.

“Vulcans are not affected by alcohol.”

Jim twisted to glance back at Spock with a raised eyebrow. “Vulcan fact thirty-four: No alcohol.”

“What is fact number thirty-three?” Spock asked as he followed Jim down the steps, ignoring the handrail entirely.

“Vulcan fact thirty-three:” Jim said with a grin that Spock wouldn’t see in the darkness, “Vulcan port must seriously suck,”

Spock snorted. _Honest to god snorted. S_ o sure, it was a tiny snort, barely more than a quick breath, but Jim heard it. He felt a little flare of warmth in his chest which he didn’t bother to push away.

They stepped onto the dirt path that cut through the park, gravel crunching as they left the stairs. The chain-link fence behind them—a remnant of the twenty-first century—was scattered with warning signs long since obsolete. Someone had tried to set up a proper garden at some point, but no one had bothered to look after it. The flowers and herbs had given way to the ever-present scraggly bushes of the city.

Jim pushed through the little copse of trees to get a better view, and Spock stepped up behind him. “You were quite right when you said that this park was a pleasant vantage point. I believe that it was quite worth the walk.”

Spock was right, the view _was_ worth it, the edge of the city leading down to the bay stretched out before them. Warm light glittered from windows and the streets were outlined in the glow of streetlights. It wasn’t a pretentious view like you might get from any number of tourist locations, but it was nice. In the dark, it was hard to see where the city ended and the water began. Everything blurred into gold and black and silver moonlight. A little pocket of space where the sounds of the city were muted.

Jim knew that during the day it would be an even better spot to watch life move past. The best part was the lack of tourists. Even in high summer, it was rare to see more than a couple people walking dogs or eating lunch. Every city had its share of those kinds of places if you knew where to look.

Jim headed to one of the benches scattered around the park, gesturing for Spock to join him. After a moment, Jim felt the bench shift as Spock sat down at the other end. When he looked over, he saw that Spock was staring out at the view like he had the dance floor back at the bar. Jim took the chance to study his profile. The harsh haircut might have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but on Spock? It actually worked, highlighting his cheekbones and jawline. The faint light of the city reflected in his dark eyes, making it seem like they were swimming with fireflies and—

Jim shook his head to clear it. Maybe he’d had a bit more to drink than he thought.

“Are you cold?” Jim asked, figuring that it was a pretty safe conversation line.

“It is alright.”

Jim snorted, “I’ve already heard that once tonight. Here,” He shrugged his jacket off and held it out to Spock, who glanced between it and Jim’s face before reaching for it.

“Are you certain? I would not wish for you to be uncomfortable.” Spock murmured, but he pulled the jacket on anyway.

 _I have_ got _to get him a leather jacket,_ Jim thought in admiration. While Spock looked great in his professor’s black, there was something about the contrast that was even better. Jim realized that he'd never _actually_ seen Spock in casual clothes. Even during their chess dates, Spock insisted on wearing his uniform.

“I grew up in Iowa,” Jim shrugged, “San Francisco winter isn’t exactly cold. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” Spock said, dipping his head as he did.

“What, no ‘thanks are illogical’?”

“Most humans I’ve met do not turn down thanks when offered,” he countered.

“Well, I’m not most humans, am I? Pretty sure I’m just one human, unless you know something I don’t.”

“You are an enigma, Jim,” Spock didn’t sigh.

“Yeah,” Jim leaned back, arms crossed behind his head, aware that Spock was watching him. Jim had noticed that intense gaze long before he’d ever spoken to the professor. “So I’ve been told.”

They sat there for a while, Jim watching clouds drift through the sky, stars hidden by light pollution. Spock watched Jim, and he pretended not to notice.

\--

Jim was rounding the corner to his dorm room when he began to hear snatches of conversation. It sounded like it was getting heated, and he slowed his pace as he got closer. Jim sighed when he realized that the pair were blocking the hallway that led past his dorm. He was ready to have to push his way past when the words registered.

“All I’m saying, is that maybe he had the right idea.”

“Four thousand people, Jared.”

Jared, whose dorm was two down from Jim's, was arguing with someone Jim had never seen before. They were shaking, and the look on their face was thunderous. Jared was leaning against a wall, seemingly unbothered by the anger directed at him. Jim took a step back and hoped that neither of them had noticed him. His hands were clenched in fists, and he forced them to relax. He did _not_ need to get involved in whatever that was, as much as Jared looked like he deserved a black eye.

“Yeah, so maybe Kodos didn’t play it right,” Jared scowled, “but you have to admit it kind of made sense. Could’ve been a whole lot worse.”

“I can’t believe-”

Jim didn’t wait for them to finish, just turned and tried not to run back down the stairs and out of the building. Before he knew it, he was standing outside Bone’s door, holding the buzzer and waiting. His heart was still pounding, but he barely noticed it. He _had_ just run basically across campus.

He could hear muffled curses from the other side of the door before it slid open to reveal Bones glaring at him.

“Hey, Bones,” Jim smiled weakly, “can I crash with you tonight?”

Bones stared at him for a moment before sighing and letting Jim into his living room. “And you can’t go back to your own dorm, why? You’re lucky I wasn’t asleep.”

Jim shrugged, “Some assholes were blocking the way and I really didn’t feel like getting in the middle of that argument.”

Bones snorted, “Jim Kirk, not getting involved? Never thought I’d see the day. Must’ve been pretty bad if you didn’t throw yourself right in.” Jim winced as he disappeared into the bedroom and came back with a blanket.

“Something like that.”

Bones looked up from where he was struggling with the pull-out couch. “You want a drink?”

Jim laughed and crouched to help Bones with the couch. He’d done it so many times that working the mechanism had become muscle memory. “Honestly? Yeah, I could use a drink.”

Bones left to dig around in his fridge and the couch finally crashed down with a creak of springs. “I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about the reason you didn’t just go around some assholes arguing in the hallway?” Bones said as he passed Jim a bottle of beer and sat down on the couch.

“Nope.” Jim tipped the bottle back, taking a long swig.

“Well then, how about professor Spock? Saw you and the hobgoblin getting on pretty well.”

Jim choked on his drink and glared up into his friend’s smirk.

“Don’t think I didn’t see the two of you leaving together.”

“God, Bones it’s not like that.”

Bones shook his head, “And after you were the one who dragged me there in the first place.” He whacked Jim good-naturedly on the back, “Well, at least I don’t have to worry ‘bout you coming to me with some weird alien STD.”

“You,” Jim said, waving his bottle at his friend, “are trying to kill me. If I die I’m going to make sure it goes on your medical record.”

“Sure thing Jimbo. Just think of it as payback for all those times I’ve had to patch you up.” Bones stood up with a grunt, “Take a shower before you sleep. Don’t want you stinking up my sheets.”

“You know you love me!” Jim shouted after his receding back, and Bones muttered something that might have been ‘don’t try me’ before the bedroom door shut with a click.

Jim slumped down and looked back at his bottle, watching the contents swirl around until they had settled. He put it on the coffee table and let the condensation drip off of it.


	4. Memories and Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter involves Tarsus iv, so  
> tw: Panic attacks, mentions of trauma and death

Jim gasped awake, fingers white-knuckled in his duvet cover. There was sweat dripping down his neck and his pillow was damp. Whether from the sweat or the tears that had left tracks across his cheeks, Jim wasn’t sure. The room was silent apart from his labored breaths and the hum of the synthesizer. His chronometer glowed at him from his bedside table, telling him that it was far too early to be awake. In the dark room, Jim could only make out the edges of shapes, the only other illumination the faint light making its way past the curtains,

Jim was shaking as he sat up and looked desperately around the room, but he was alone in his dorm. His roommate’s bed was a tangle of blankets, but Oliver was nowhere to be seen. Jim knew he should be grateful, but his chest was tightening and he didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want to sit in the dark, in the silence…

_Dark nights, the only sound the faint crackling of fires raging over the ridge. Smoke heavy in the sickly-sweet air. Children, no longer crying._

Jim slid out of bed and sat on the floor, leaning his head back against the mattress as he took deep breaths. It was just a dream, a dream like every other time. Dreams that had been getting worse ever since class had started back up after the break. It was just stress building up, that’s what every counselor ever had told him. His brain dealing with his ridiculous workload and constant expectations. It was just chemicals, faint memories brought to the surface by his subconscious mind.

_Just. A dream._

Jim didn’t even notice the tears still leaking from his eyes until one fell against his shoulder. He shook his head and dragged a hand across his face. His heart was still hammering, but at least he could breathe again. He wished he could open the window to let in the last of the winter chill, but didn’t trust his legs to carry him across the dorm. Even without Oliver there to see it, Jim didn’t particularly feel like falling face-first into a table.

He pulled his PADD off his bedside table. His hands shook as he typed in the code to unlock it; It took him a couple of tries before the device finally pinged in recognition.

Jim flipped through some news articles, trying to distract himself. The words were little more than a blur in his vision and after a moment he closed the app in defeat. There was an ache building in the base of his skull, and Jim knew he should do something. Get water, lie back down, but _something._

He didn’t want to go back to sleep, wanted to lock everything away like he'd been doing for the past week. It was juvenile and he knew it; he needed to sleep, all he was managing currently was avoiding the problem. Not even very well, considering the number of other cadets—hell, even professors—he’d snapped at recently. It was getting worse too, each sleepless night weighing on him, making his bones ache.

Jim kept navigating aimlessly through the PADD, opening an app only to flick it closed again. He caught sight of his conversation with Spock, the last few messages still blinking notifications at him. He’d been avoiding looking at his harsh words, hadn't been able to bring himself to answer. Spock, though, hadn’t seemed to hold it against him at the party, didn't even bring it up when they were at the park afterward.

Before he could think better of it, Jim had clicked on Spock’s contact and the dial tone echoed through the silent dorm room.

“Jim?” Spock’s voice came clear over the speaker and Jim almost dropped the PADD in surprise.

“Spock! I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d actually pick up.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as unsteady as he felt.

“Why would I not pick up?”

Against his better judgement, Jim found himself relaxing as Spock’s voice broke through the thick air of the dorm. He might have been embarrassed if it wasn’t such a relief. Jim could feel his adrenaline dripping away like syrup, steadily flowing off him. It was incredible how Spock could put him at ease in a second.

 _Wait, right, embarrassment_. There it was.

“Ah, well it’s kind of the middle of the night, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Vulcans do not require as much sleep as humans.”

Jim already had that one as number twelve on his list of facts. It had come up early in their chess games, Jim wondering if Spock would still have enough time to mark papers, or whatever else he did. Spock had reassured him that it was not a problem and that he enjoyed their chess matches. Jim had preened and Bones had told him to 'shut up about your crush. It's three in the fucking morning' over the comm.

“Yeah,” Jim shifted, trying to sort his limbs into a more comfortable arrangement. “You still do that meditation thing, right? Sorry, I'll hang up and you can get back to that.”

“I would not have answered unless I was finished. You are not interrupting, Jim.”

“Thanks,” Jim whispered, doubly glad that Spock wasn’t able to see him as he felt a blush creep across his face. His emotions were all over the place, a complete contrast to the calm voice on the other end of the connection.

“Was there a reason for your call?”

Jim winced. “Not really. I just… couldn’t sleep. Bones would kill me if I woke him up this late again. Early. Whatever. He’s already had to put up with me once this weekend.”

“Bones. That is what you call Dr. McCoy, correct? You and he seem very close.” His voice was gentle, and Jim felt himself melt a little. He had a sneaking suspicion that Spock was trying to distract him, but Jim didn’t mind. Honestly, he _wanted_ to be distracted.

“Yeah, good ol’ Bones. We met on the shuttle here when he almost puked on me,” Jim snorted.

“He was ill?”

“Uh, kind of?” Jim paused. Did Vulcans get motion sickness? “He hates flying, which kind of makes it worse I guess. Also space, or so I've heard.”

“It seems odd that he would choose to join Starfleet if that were the case.”

“Well, you know us humans. Terribly illogical,” he joked, “but we all have our reasons for going into the black.”

“Your father?”

Jim’s smile slipped and he sighed, fiddling with the PADD. The little image of an old-timey microphone bounced as it registered the sound. The faint bar of light on the floor was shifting ever closer to him, and Jim resisted the urge to check the chronometer again. He knew it would only stress him out.

“I am sorry if I have upset you—”

“No, no, it’s fine, just, people always think of my dad when they see me. I’m pretty used to it though.” Jim sighed again, kneading a knuckle into his forehead. “But yeah, that’s one of the reasons. I had a pretty shitty childhood, but honestly who didn’t?”

“I must admit that I doubt many of the cadets at the academy had a ‘shitty childhood’ as you put it.” Spock’s voice was sardonic and Jim laughed more than he probably should have.

“Well, they’re the outliers then.” He leaned his head against the mattress again, letting the last chuckles fade away before continuing. “Bones and I were the ones who stood out from the other cadets, so we kind of ended up attached to each other. It’s almost funny, when you think about it.

“Did you have someone like that when you were still a cadet?” Jim asked, looking back to the PADD, at the blank circle of Spock’s icon.

There was a short pause from the other end of the line, then: “No. I spent most of my formative years at the academy on my own, as I had done on Vulcan.”

“I’m sorry,” Jim winced. It was just like him to answer one awkward question with another. “You know, Bones was really the first friend I’d made since...” Jim gulped as he felt the lingering panic from his dream resurface with a sudden jolt. It slid back into place like an old friend, tightening cold fingers around his throat.

_Please, not right now. I can’t do this. It was just getting better._

Jim thought that he might have managed to mumble out some end to his sentence, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t hear if Spock replied.

_The smell of rotting grain permeated the air, leaving his mouth sticky and dry. Smoke rose on the horizon and everything hurt, every bone ached and his stomach felt so hollow. There was crying all around him and Jim was-_

He pressed his short nails into his palm, trying to draw pull himself back into the present. He was painfully aware of everything around him, even as his brain was trying to convince him that he was back in that field of rotting grain.

_No. No, it’s been so many years why is this still… it’s stupid—_

“Jim?”

Jim gasped, trying to grab onto the sound of Spock’s voice, tinny through the PADD’s speakers. Trying to hold onto that one stable point in the whirlwind of adrenaline.

“Jim? Jim, are you alright? Is something wrong?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

“Spock…I’m fine…” Jim managed between the rasping breaths he couldn’t get under control as hard as he tried. His brain felt like it was at a disconnect from his body. He cataloged the unusual level of emotion in Spock’s voice, the way he was speaking faster than usual. He was shaking again. He wanted to reach out to Spock through the connection.

“Do you require medical attention?”

“No, please… just… keep talking. I’ll be alright.” It was true. The momentary flash was already receding, but Jim didn’t want to have to go back to sitting alone in the empty room.

There was a short pause on the other side of the line before Spock began to speak again.

He told Jim about Vulcan, about the red sands and swirling storms. The warm stone and cold stares of the other Vulcans.

He explained the way his eternally stoic father only softened around Spock's mother. Jim laughed at Spock’s description of his pet sehlat and sat in silence as Spock told him about how the other Vulcan children had bullied him. It was the most he had ever revealed about himself, and Jim kicked himself for being too knocked out to focus. Even with his list of ‘Vulcan facts’ he'd never had a clear picture of Spock’s life.

As he felt his eyes growing heavier Jim marveled at the fact that it was the second time he’d fallen asleep thanks to Spock. He knew that he should move back to the bed, but he stayed on the floor, PADD resting on his knee. Jim wondered when Spock had started to make him feel so safe.

\--

When Jim woke up, it was Sunday morning and there was a message on his PADD from Spock inviting him to tea. The address of a small cafe Jim had never been to before was attached beneath.

Jim straightened his sore limbs and winced as his neck cracked. He was stiff and felt hollowed out from the night before. Sleeping on the floor hadn’t helped, but he was awake and it was too late to change.

Oliver’s bed looked untouched, but Jim didn’t bother wondering where his roommate was. Without the panic of the night, Jim was just glad that Oliver hadn’t been there to see him.

He shot off a quick reply telling Spock that he’d meet him at the tea shop before pushing himself to his feet. There wasn’t any reason for him to dwell anyway. Bones had seen Jim in worse states. Besides, since Spock was inviting him to tea he hadn’t been scared off by Jim’s emotional outburst. Hopefully. Then again, he was never sure with the Vulcan.

Jim got dressed, casting longing glances at the stainless steel coffee maker he'd finally bought. There wasn’t any point in drinking coffee if he was meeting Spock for tea anyway. He hoped the tea shop had something with enough caffeine to last him over; Jim _definitely_ didn’t want a repeat of the lab incident.

When Jim exited the dorm building the sun hit him full in the face; spring was coming and the sun was already rising earlier every day. The chill of earlier in the week was also dampened, and Jim hardly needed the jacket he’d grabbed on the way out. He’d likely have to take it off when he started walking anyway.

The tea shop was only twenty minutes away but Jim had woken up late and he didn’t want to keep Spock waiting. Jim toyed with the idea of catching a bus before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. He chuckled at the contrast to his trip to Spock’s lab as he made his way quickly through San Francisco streets. He was tired but he felt lighter than he had in a while and he was able to ignore the faint twinges in his back and muscles. Being invited to tea felt even more like a date than any of their chess matches ever had. Jim didn’t bother telling himself it wasn’t.

Jim immediately saw Spock when he pushed his way into the warm interior of the store. He breathed in the intertwining smells of spices and tea, pausing to let it wash over him. The atmosphere in the store was calming and, frankly, almost cute. The worn wooden chairs pushed back from tables made Jim think of warm kitchens and family meals. There were a handful of large plant pots that Jim had to maneuver his way around to reach the back of the store where Spock sat.

Not at all the kind of place Jim would have expected Spock to visit. Then again, the sleekly modern restaurants of downtown didn’t exactly strike him as Spock's style either. Jim wondered what kind of restaurants they had on Vulcan. Did Vulcans even eat out? He made a mental note to check later.

Spock was hunched over a PADD, dark hair not quite falling in front of his eyes. He'd managed to position himself away from the other patrons without looking like he was avoiding them.

Jim paused and let himself watch for a moment. He saw the way that the warm sunlight filtering through the windows softened Spock’s face. He looked almost like a different person than the one Jim had met in the rec hall over a month before. He looked more like the Spock who had sat with Jim in the park, staring out at the city. In the full light of day, Jim was able to take in more of his face, and he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity.

Spock looked up before Jim could say anything and his lips twitched into what Jim recognized as a smile.

“Jim.”

“Still doing work there, professor?” Jim laughed as he slid into the opposite chair “It’s Sunday! Even you should relax sometimes.”

Spock huffed lightly, “I am simply maximizing my efficiency.” But he tucked his PADD into a pocket of the long coat that was hung on the back of his chair. “I am glad that you seem in good spirits this morning.” He cocked his head at Jim, more a question than a statement of fact for once.

“Yeah, the wonders of getting invited to tea by my favorite professor,” he grinned, tilting his head to match Spock’s gesture.

Spock didn’t reply to that, just said: “Would you care to order? The tea here is generally considered to be excellent.”

Jim nodded and took the proffered menu. “It’s a nice store. How’d you even find this place? No offense, but you don’t exactly seem the type to spend time wandering around San Francisco.”

“That is true, however, my mother was the one who introduced me to this store.”

Jim raised an eyebrow in a near-perfect imitation of Vulcan surprise. “Your mother? I'm pretty sure you said something about her last night, but I was too out of it to really remember. Oh—” Jim looked up at the server who was hovering at his shoulder, “I’ll have black tea, thanks.”

“Yes. We spent time in San Francisco during my childhood due to my father’s diplomatic responsibilities. My mother was fond of the city.”

The memory clicked back into place; Spock telling him that his father had married a human. That helped explained what Spock had said about bullying when he was younger.

“Well, I’m glad that _someone_ in your family has good taste. I was starting to worry that you were all—” Jim schooled his face into something approximating stoicism before letting his smile flood back. “You know.”

Spock leveled his gaze at Jim but his eyes belied his disapproval. “I believe that you would get along with one another. You are both rather... emotional people.”

“I can’t believe you’d say that!” Jim exclaimed, spreading his arms, “Emotional? Me? Surely you must be mistaken.”

Jim was saved from Spock’s retort by their server returning with his tea and… whatever Spock had ordered. It smelled like something spicy and warm and not at all like tea. Jim flipped on his most charming smile as the girl put down his cup, and she blushed before turning to Spock. He accepted the cup graciously, but Jim noticed him twitch when their fingers brushed. Jim had always been careful of touching Spock— he may not have known much about Vulcan biology, but everyone knew about the ‘no physical contact’ rule. It was the very first entry on Jim’s Vulcan Facts list.

“What’s that?” Jim said, gesturing towards the deep-orange liquid, “It smells amazing.”

Spock glanced up, meeting his eyes briefly before looking at a spot somewhere on Jim’s forehead. “It is a Vulcan tea. It is difficult to find outside of Vulcan and another reason that my parents favored this store. I find it… sentimental.”

“Could I try some?”

“I do not think that you would enjoy it. It is a rather acquired taste, and most humans I’ve met find it disagreeable.”

“Come on,” Jim wheedled, leaning across the table, “just a little bit. If it’s as bad as all that, at least I can say I tried it, right?”

If Spock had been human, he probably would have sighed. As it was he passed his cup over to Jim, who inhaled the smells twisting through the steam. He took a small sip and immediately set down the cup to cough. “Oh wow, that is, uh, very strong.”

Spock raised an eyebrow in amusement, “I did warn you.”

“Oh shut up,” Jim spluttered, “it’s not that bad.” He took a long sip out of his own cup, trying to mute the strange flavors coating his tongue, nearly scalding himself in the process. It _wasn’t_ that bad, and Jim thought that he could grow to like it, with time. There was something to be said for the heavy warmth of the drink, almost like cinnamon and chili powder all in one. Also, something that tasted like… licorice? Really angry licorice?

Spock watched Jim trying to rid his mouth of the taste and his lips quirked.

_Score._

“What’s it made of anyway?”

“I must admit that I do not know the details of its production.” Spock spread his hands from where they still rested around the cup. “But I believe it is a blend of native plants.”

Jim hummed and leaned back in his chair, taking another sip from his own cup. It was honestly pretty weird to be sitting in a tea shop with Spock. Well, generally it was weird that Jim was even in a tea shop to begin with. He’d never been one for cafes, not that there had been many around his mom’s farm anyway. Having Spock sitting across from him at the table…it exacerbated the strangeness.

“Jim if I may, I was wondering if you would be willing to discuss our call last night.” The warmth that had pervaded their conversation fell away as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Jim with a sick feeling in his stomach. He snapped his gaze back to meet Spock’s eyes. Jim took pride in his ability to read people. Even with the learning curve, he thought he had a pretty good handle on the basics of 'Spock'. Despite his impassive face, Jim could tell that Spock was uncomfortable. His stiff speech and the tension barely visible in his hands betrayed him.

Jim looked away, schooling his face and running a hand through his hair in an attempt to look nonchalant. The question had caught him off guard. Sure, he’d been expecting Spock to bring up their late-night conversation, but Jim had let himself hope he wouldn’t mention it. Of course, that was impossible.

“Man, I really am sorry about that. It was late and I wasn’t thinking straight.” He chuckled, but it sounded hollow and humorless even to his own ears.

He was trying not to shout _I don’t want to talk about it, ok?_ Spock didn’t deserve it. Nor did any of the other patrons who would inevitably hear him. Jim bit the inside of his cheek, worrying at the flesh as Spock seemed to be trying to come up with something to say. He fought the urge to stand and leave, walk away before he could embarrass himself.

“You were in distress. Jim, I…” Spock trailed off, seeming to struggle with the words, “I would like to know what it is that is troubling you.”

Jim looked down at where he was gripping his cup, knuckles going pale with the pressure. He forced himself to loosen his fingers before replying. “You don’t need to worry about my ‘efficiency’, I’m managing fine.” He was getting defensive, just like he had the day at the lab, but he couldn’t help it.

“I am not worried about your efficiency. Jim, I am concerned for _you_. You have not seemed well these past days.” He sucked in a breath and laid his hands, palm flat, on the table. Jim had never seen the gesture before. “I would like to help you, but if you truly do not want me to, I will leave you alone.”

Jim sighed, couldn’t bring himself to meet Spock’s insistent gaze. “You’re serious, huh.” When Spock didn’t respond, Jim decided to continue. “When I was a kid… I spent some time off-world with my aunt and uncle. A colony. It… didn’t go well.” Still, he was met with only silence. Jim shifted uncomfortably in the chair, aware of the other patrons around them. No one seemed to be paying them any mind which was a relief.

“A lot of people died. I’m sure you heard about it. Hell, everyone knew afterward.” _After, when it was already too late._ “When I called you last night…I sometimes still dream about it. It usually doesn’t get that bad. This past week,” he shrugged, “it’s been a bit worse. That’s part of why I’ve been tired, I guess. It's been a long time, but this still happens every now and again. Nothing I can’t handle. ” He was rambling, words running together in his rush to get rid of them.

“You were on Tarsus IV.” It wasn’t a question, but Jim nodded anyway. “Is Dr. McCoy aware?” Spock’s voice was soft, and Jim finally looked up.

Spock’s dark eyes were fixed on him and Jim could read the concern in every line of his body. Jim didn’t want his pity. He didn’t need it, didn’t need the looks; he got enough of those already. There was a reason he didn't talk about Tarsus. Being 'George Kirk's son' was enough.

Spock really was a master of digging up the things that Jim tried to keep hidden.

“Yeah, Bones knows. He leaves me to it most of the time. Just another fucked up part of being Jim kirk.” He laughed again and the sound rattled through the air between them.

“Jim—”

Jim abruptly pushed back in his chair and stood, shoving his half-drunk tea to the side. A little sloshed over the side but he didn't care. “I’m going back. Thanks for the tea. It was nice.”

He turned to go but stopped when he felt a hand grip his own. Spock looked almost as shocked as he felt, staring at where he had grabbed hold of Jim’s hand. Jim expected him to pull away, but instead, Spock guided him back into his seat. Jim slowly sat back down, still ready to get up at any moment.

Jim had always been careful of touching Spock, but now Spock was the one holding his hand.

“Tushah nash-veh k’du. I cannot claim to understand what you have been through, and I would not seek to. We do not need to talk about it but,” Spock gently squeezed Jim’s hand, “I thank you for sharing.”

And that... wasn't what Jim had been expecting. Vulcans weren't exactly known to be masters of empathy, but Spock had somehow said the one thing that wouldn't make Jim want to tear himself away. He felt unbalanced, strung between Spock's words and his hand still gripping Jim's.

“You’re really quite weird, you know that, right, Spock?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, “It would be illogical to deny that.”

“I guess we’re both a couple of weirdos then.” Jim put his forehead on the table, not even worrying about how he looked anymore. “How do you do that? Just…” he trailed off and looked into Spock’s eyes, sparkling across where their joined hands lay on the table. “Everything feels better when you’re around. I really love that, even when you go pulling up my old traumas.” Jim blushed as he realized what he’d said, futilely hoping that Spock wouldn’t notice (unlikely, not even considering their clasped hands). “Wait, sorry, I mean—”

“Jim,” Spock murmured, “Do not apologize. It is… the same for me. I… find it difficult to choose the correct words sometimes, but… I would like to show you the depth of my regard, If you would let me.”

Jim nodded minutely, little more than a twitch but Spock must have seen it. He shifted his hand and then Jim felt a faint tug of emotion, foreign and familiar all at once. Spock must have lowered his shields because Jim stared into his eyes and he felt—

_Hope tinged with grief and warmth and something else Jim couldn’t quite name but it was what he felt every time he managed to get Spock to let go of his control and smile in that way he had and—_

_You do not need to reciprocate, I simply wished for you to know._

Jim shook his head and he knew that Spock could feel the emotions running hot under Jim's own skin.

 _Don't be ridiculous,_ he tried to think back as clearly as he could.

Jim smiled and Spock actually smiled back and if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing Jim had ever seen. He hadn’t forgotten his earlier distress, but it all seemed so much less important. Jim was still filled with broken pieces, but Spock was smoothing out the sharpest corners. He’d been so focused on it and pushing through the exhaustion for what felt like an eternity. Now Spock was across from him and maybe it didn’t have to be so bad anymore.

Jim laughed because what else was he supposed to do? He knew that he must be projecting everything to Spock through their connection, but he didn’t care.

“Kind of a sucky first date, huh.” Jim shook his head and finally, _finally_ his laughter didn’t sound like it was being choked out of him.

“Perhaps the timing was not ideal,” Spock conceded with his familiar raised eyebrow, “however I do not find that I have any complaints with the outcome.”

He seemed to have gotten control over his words again and Jim shook his head. “We can always have a re-do some other time, when I didn’t just basically have a panic attack over the phone.”

“I am amenable to that suggestion.”

There was a flash of amusement through the connection, and Jim wondered if he should let go of Spock’s hands.

Then again, if Spock wasn’t pulling away, Jim sure as hell wasn’t about to.

Jim used his free hand to grab his cup where he had abandoned it on the edge of the table to take another sip. It had cooled down enough to be counted as warm but he didn’t mind.

“So tell me, was it love at first sight?” Jim smiled as the tips of Spock’s ears shaded a light green. He was surprisingly easy to embarrass.

“The innately superficial nature of such a concept aside, do you refer to our initial messages or our first face-to-face encounter?” Always one for details, of _course_ Spock would ask for clarification.

Jim thought for a moment, letting the quiet hubbub of the café wash over him, matching the hum in the back of his mind. “Our messages, I guess. I already felt like I knew you by the time we met in person so I wouldn’t count that as ‘first sight’.” Jim attempted to do the mental equivalent of elbowing Spock but he wasn’t sure how successful he was. “However ‘superficial’ you think it is, Mr. Spock.”

Spock tilted his head, something amused and somehow _quiet_ noticeable between their palms. “Then Jim, I must admit that no, it was not ‘love at first sight’, Although, perhaps another concept applied more accurately.”

"And what was that, professor Spock?" Jim teased.

There was that faint smile again. “The knowledge that I could grow to care for you. That you could matter to me, and I to you. The expectation of love at second sight, if you will.”

Spock held out his other hand, two fingers extended and Jim met it with his own.

The sounds of the cafe continued around them; their tea cooled on the table; life moved on outside the windows. They stayed still, motion forgotten, hands pressed together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really a ride to write, and it felt like a lot happened in it (subjectively). I probably could have split this as it is longer than usual but I am happy with the way it is now. Hope you've enjoyed this story, we're almost at the end.
> 
> Only the epilogue left now (knock on wood).


End file.
